


Henry Claus is Comin' to Town

by manypastfrustrations



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Christmas, Christmas Presents, Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manypastfrustrations/pseuds/manypastfrustrations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Police Officer Olive Charles expected to find late at night in the Homicide department was Santa Claus. And yet there he was, larger than life, standing in the middle of the office.<br/>For the prompt: "Let's be Santa!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Henry Claus is Comin' to Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birdthatlookslikeastick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdthatlookslikeastick/gifts).



Henry Morgan walked confidently down the corridor of the police station towards the door of the Homicide department. It was a chilly winter’s morning, but Henry was not feeling the cold as much as most, due in part to a thick new scarf he had purchased earlier that week. He was particularly proud of his new scarf, which was a deep blue, a colour he did not usually wear.

In fact, Henry was so busy thinking about his new scarf when he entered the Homicide department that it was several moments before he noticed the gloomy atmosphere in the office. Of course, a department devoted to solving murders is never the most cheerful place to be, but on this particular morning there was a definitely sense of melancholy in the room. Rather than talking to each other, which was normal early in the morning, the detectives were sitting silently at their desks, looking unhappy.

Henry arrived at Jo’s desk, and she slowly cast her eyes up to look at him. “Oh, hello, Henry,” she said flatly.

“Good morning,” he said. “Is everything all right? Has something happened?”

“It’s what hasn’t happened that’s the problem,” Jo said glumly. “The powers that be have refused our application for a Christmas party.”

“Refused?” Henry frowned. “Why is your department not allowed a Christmas party this year? There was no problem last year.”

“It’s not just Homicide,” Mike piped up from his desk. “None of the departments have been approved this year, because of some stupid stunt pulled by HR last year.”

“Ah, the incident with the mannequin and the water cannon,” Henry nodded. “I remember that well.”

“Yeah, and this year, they don’t want to give the police a bad name,” Jo said. “Because obviously, Christmas parties are the only thing giving the police a bad name at the moment,” she added sarcastically.

“The long and short of it, Doc, is that there’s no Christmas party this year,” Mike said. “We can’t even have an unofficial get-together outside of work, for fear of losing our jobs.”

“If I may say so,” Henry said, “that is ridiculous.”

“Believe me,” Jo said gloomily, “we know.” After a moment, her face cleared, and she looked up at him. “Did you come here for a reason, Henry?”

Henry remembered the file he was holding. “Er, yes,” he said, holding it out for inspection. “I came to bring the final death certificate for the stab victim from yesterday.”

Jo took the file and placed it on her desk, giving it only a cursory glance as she did so. “Thanks.”

As Henry excused himself and made his way back down to the morgue, his head was filled with thoughts about the detectives’ Christmas party, or lack thereof. Although it was only a minor injustice in the scheme of things, his friends had seemed more sad than he wold have expected them to. Henry had never cared much for office parties, but apparently it meant much more to the detectives. It was almost as though Christmas had been cancelled altogether, rather than just a party.

Henry exited the elevator and almost walked into Lucas, who was crossing the corridor holding a bag that looked as though it held the contents of someone’s stomach. Given where they worked, it probably did.

“Henry!” Lucas said, making full use of the permission Henry had given him to use his first name. “How’s it goin’?”

“I am fine,” Henry told him, “although our friends are not.” He quickly explained the situation to Lucas, who frowned sympathetically as he listened.

“So they can’t have a Christmas party? At all?” He wrinkled his nose. “That’s stupid.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“Luckily that doesn’t apply to us, huh?”

“Doesn’t it?” Henry asked, unable to prevent himself feeling a slight pang of disappointment. He didn’t want anybody to be inconvenienced, of course, but the lack of a Christmas party would have been the perfect excuse for not attending.

“You are going to come this year, aren’t you, Henry?” Lucas said, frowning. “Please say yes! You never come, but I’m sure you’d enjoy it. I know you will.”

“Yes,” Henry lied smoothly, deciding it would be easier to come up with an excuse nearer the time than to listen to Lucas’ pleas until then.

“Awesome!” Lucas held his hand up for a high five, before remembering he was still holding the stomach contents. “Uh, I’ll just go refrigerate this.”

While Lucas went into the large refrigerator to file away the plastic bag, Henry made his way over to his slab and began to prepare for the first body of the day. He was pulling on his gloves when Lucas returned, clad in his white coat.

“You know,” Henry commented as he made the first incision, “it only there were something we could do for the detectives. The way they were acting, it was as though they had learned that they had grown too old for Father Christmas to visit.” It was a look Henry knew from his own experiences as a parent, not that he mentioned this to Lucas.

“Perhaps there is something we could do,” Lucas said slowly.

Henry frowned, looking up. He could see the excitement growing on Lucas’ face, which made him nervous. Suddenly, he knew what Lucas was going to say, a second before he said it.

“Let’s be Santa!”

“No,” Henry said immediately. “Absolutely not.” Lucas looked at him pleadingly, but he shook his head firmly. “This is not up for negotiation, Lucas. There is no way you are going to talk me into this.”

* * *

“I still cannot believe that you talked me into this,” Henry grumbled.

“Shhhh!” Lucas whispered. “Someone’ll hear us.” He flattened his back against the wall of the corridor, peering around the corner before quickly pulling his head back. “Security guard at the other end,” he whispered urgently to Henry. “He’s coming our way.”

Henry nodded calmly. “He’s going to go through the door halfway down the corridor,” he told Lucas. “Just stay back.”

The men held their respective breaths, listening to the distant footsteps slowly coming closer. Sure enough, the footsteps stopped several yards away from where the men hid. They heard a door opening and closing.

Lucas let out a sigh of relief, then frowned, turning to Henry. “Since when do you know the security guards’ routes? Have you been here at night before?”

“We need to go,” Henry said, avoiding the question. Now was definitely not the time to tell Lucas about his late-night visit with Molly Dawes. “Another guard will begin his round in half an hour, and we want to be out of here before then.” He pushed past Lucas and walked briskly around the corner, making his way down the corridor towards the stairwell at the other end.

“You have, haven’t you?” Lucas said in a stage whisper, hurrying after Henry. “What were you doing?”

Henry ignored the question, increasing his pace down the corridor. They reached the other end and slipped through the door into the stairwell. “Were these costumes strictly necessary?” he asked Lucas, pulling at the itchy collar.

“Absolutely,” Lucas said without hesitation. “Hey, could you give me a hand with this bag?”

Henry opened the door wider to allow Lucas to pull the rubbish bag through into the stairwell. They headed cautiously up the stairs, Henry leading the way, with Lucas lugging the bag behind him.

“Try not to bang it against the steps,” Henry whispered.

“I’m trying,” Lucas hissed back. “This thing’s heavy!”

Henry stopped abruptly, motioning for Lucas to do the same. He raised a finger to his lips, listening intently.

They heard a door opening onto the stairwell on the floor above them. They heard footsteps – female, judging by the high heels clicking on the floor – enter the echo-y stairwell, then began to ascend. Both men sighed relievedly when they realised she was going away from them.

A couple of flights up, the woman opened another door and went through. After a moment, Henry continued to walk up the stairs, Lucas close behind. Eventually, they emerged from the stairwell into another corridor. This time, they walked briskly along, passing several offices until they found the one they wanted. Lucas made sure to keep his face down, to make it difficult for the security cameras to capture his face.

Henry peered through the glass door into the office beyond, a difficult task given that the office seemed to be completely dark. “Clear,” he whispered to Lucas.

“Let’s go,” Lucas said, picking up the bag from where he had rested it against the wall. Henry eased the door open as quietly as he could, and was relieved to find that it did not squeak.

The office was almost entirely dark, with the only light coming from a couple of computer screens that had been left on. Nonetheless, Henry and Lucas found that they were able to see enough to move around without bumping into any desks. Well, almost.

“Ouch!”

“Keep your voice down,” Henry hissed.

“I can’t help it if these desks are at knee-height,” Lucas said.

“It was your idea to come here at night,” Henry reminded him.

“I didn’t anticipate it being quite this dark.”

Henry squinted as he looked at a package. “I can’t quite read the name on this one,” he said, holding it closer to one of the computer screens. “Is that Joanne or Joanna?”

“Wait, there’s a Joanne _and_ a Joanna in this department?” Lucas asked. “What are the chances of that happening?”

“Low,” Henry said, still squinting at the name. “I think that’s Joanne.”

“It must be,” Lucas said. “I got Joanna’s one here.”

“Right,” Henry said. He made his way over to Detective Martinez’s desk, and set the package down with a small smile, in front of the keyboard where he knew she would see it. Meanwhile, Lucas carefully walked around the desks towards Lieutenant Reece’s office, turning the door handle to go inside.

Both men were so engrossed in what they were doing that they failed to notice the door to the office opening, until the light was turned on.

Officer Olive Charles just wanted to sleep. She had only recently switched to the night shift once a week, and her body clock was still getting used to the different hours. It had taken an effort to pry herself away from her cosy, warm office, but Olive knew she had to go to the Homicide department to get a file from Detective Bell’s desk.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Santa Claus, standing in the middle of the office, reaching into a large bag on the floor. At the back of the office, Olive could see a door opening, with what looked like an elf disappearing into the dark office beyond.

When she turned the light on, Santa froze, turning to look at her. All she could see of his face behind the large beard was his eyes, but Olive was sure it was Santa - he even had the red hat. Santa and Olive stared at each other for several seconds, neither one moving.

Suddenly, a gangly elf came out of the office, wearing a red-and-green shirt and green leggings, as well as a pointed green cap. He was looking at Santa. “What’s up, boss?” he was saying. “Why did you turn the light-” He froze, cutting himself off when he saw Olive standing in the doorway, staring at him. His face seemed vaguely familiar, like she had seen him someplace a while ago, but she couldn’t be certain.

The three of them stood frozen for few long moments. Santa and the elf were both staring at Olive, whose eyes were flicking between the two, not quite believing what she was seeing. Had she fallen asleep, after all?

Finally, Santa cleared his throat. “Can we help you?” he asked, as if Olive was the intruder.

His voice was British, Olive noticed. But then again, she thought, what should Santa’s accent be? “Uh…” she stammered. “I just wanted a file.”

Santa spread an arm, indicating the office around them. “Be our guest.”

Olive sidled towards Detective Bell’s desk, thankful that it was close to the door, and picked up the file she wanted. “Er…thank you,” she said hesitantly.

“Our pleasure,” Santa said. The elf was anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot behind him, watching her with wary eyes.

Not quite knowing what to do, Olive backed up, towards the door. She had one hand on the door handle behind her when something occurred to her “Are you real?” she asked. “Or am I dreaming?”

Santa smiled. “Yes,” was all he said.

“…Okay then,” Olive said. She opened the door and backed through, closing it behind her and hurrying down the corridor.

She was almost at the stairwell when she realised that she had forgotten to turn off the light in Homicide. She turned around to head back, but saw that the lights were already off, and the office was dark.

Olive looked down uncertainly at the file she was holding. Had she seriously just seen Santa and one of his elves delivering presents?

She frowned, another thought occurring to her. Why was she, a grown woman, questioning whether or not she had just seen Santa Claus?

Olive sighed and went down the stairs, shaking her head. She really needed sleep.

Back inside the darkened Homicide department, Henry and Lucas were laughing so hard they could barely stay upright. “She really thought you were Santa!” Lucas giggled, leaning against a desk to prevent himself from falling over.

“Apparently so,” Henry chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, dear.”

“That was classic,” Lucas said. “Brilliant! When you said, ‘Can we help you?’ her eyes almost popped out of her head!” he said, in a passable imitation of Henry’s accent.

“Poor woman,” Henry said. “Luckily, she didn’t seem to recognise your face.”

“Yeah, I have no idea who she is,” Lucas said. “Well, she’s obviously a police officer from her uniform, but I don’t know her name.”

“Hopefully, she doesn’t find out who were are,” Henry said.

“Agreed,” Lucas said. “I’ve done all my presents, have you done yours?”

Henry placed one last parcel on a desk. “Yes.”

“Right, then let’s go,” Lucas said, “before she comes back.”

“Good idea,” Henry said, picking up the plastic rubbish bag and folding it. He tucked it under his arm, and together he and Lucas headed for the door, peering out to check that the officer had gone before slipping out into the corridor and heading home.

* * *

The next day, Henry was walking down the corridor when he heard the sound of loud chatter coming from the Homicide department. He pushed open the door to find all the detectives standing by their desks, holding half- or completely unwrapped packages, all talking excitedly about their contents. Henry couldn’t help but smile at the faces of the people he worked with every day, filled as they were with pure, unadulterated joy at the Christmas surprise. He was reminded of the way Abe’s face had looked, unwrapping his gifts as a child.

For a while, nobody noticed Henry standing in the doorway. Jo was the first person to look up and see him, and she waved to him excitedly. “Henry!”

Henry smiled, and made his way over to her desk. “I brought this report for you to sign,” he said, holding up a manila folder. “What’s all this?”

“Someone’s left presents on all the desks,” Jo said. “They must have come back after hours and done it, but we don’t know who it was.”

“Nobody’s owning up,” Mike added, tearing his attention away from his own gift – a bottle of designer cologne. “And everybody’s got a present, so we can’t figure it out that way.”

“Well, that is a surprise,” Henry said, hoping he looked sufficiently surprised himself. “Do you have any suspicions as to who it might be?”

“None,” Jo said. “We can’t even figure out who would be able to afford all this, plus their own presents for family and stuff. Not on a cop’s salary, anyway.” She held up the handbag she had received. “This stuff isn’t exactly cheap, you know.”

“Indeed,” Henry said.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. A few heads turned to look, including Henry’s, but most people looked away when they saw who it was.

Officer Olive Charles entered and went towards Detective Bell’s desk. “I just came to return the file I borrowed last night,” she said.

Detective Bell smiled, taking the file. “Thanks.”

Olive turned to go, then stopped. She looked around the department, only just seeming to realise what was happening around her. “It was real,” she breathed, eyes wide.

Detective Bell frowned. “What was real?”

“The presents. They’re real. I thought I’d imagined it.”

“Thought you imagined- Wait,” Detective Bell said, raising her voice slightly, attracting several people’s attention. “Did you see who left these?”

More heads turned to look at Olive, who swallowed, suddenly nervous. “It was Santa Claus,” she said, aware of how silly she sounded even as the words left her mouth.

Several detectives turned to look at each other, confused. “Santa Claus?” a few echoed disbelievingly.

“I saw him,” Olive continued, looking around at the detectives’ faces. “Last night. I came to get a file, and he was there…” She trailed off as her eyes rested on a familiar face. She hadn’t seen the face before, but there was something familiar about the blue eyes. At this moment, they were watching her warily, but in her memory she could see them twinkling, above a white beard…

Olive’s own eyes widened as she realised that she was looking at the same person she had seen the previous night, dressed as Santa Claus. As she watched, he slowly raised a finger to his lips, and winked at her.

Olive realised that she had said too much, but now there was a room full of detectives watching her, so she couldn’t exactly stop talking. Instead, she burst out laughing hoping it didn’t sound too forced. “Fooled you!” she said.

The tension in the room quickly relaxed. A few other people started to laugh as well, a couple even clapping. Henry smiled gratefully at Olive, and she nodded back.

She turned to Detective Bell. “I need to get back,” she said. “Still on for the drink after work?”

Detective Bell smiled. “Absolutely.”

Olive nodded, and cast one last look around the office before heading back downstairs.

Henry turned back to Jo, who was still laughing. “Santa Claus,” she said, shaking her head.

“I saw your face,” Mike told her. “You believed her.”

“Did not!”

“You totally did,” Mike said. “You were hanging on her every word.”

“Stop it,” Jo said, raising her new handbag warningly. Mike raised his hands in playful surrender.

Henry smiled, looking around the room at the detectives, talking and laughing with child-like wonder. Father Christmas may not be real, but if he were, Henry was sure that this was how he would feel – a mixture of pride and contentment, at seeing the effects of his work. For the first time since Abraham had been a child, Henry allowed himself to feel like Father Christmas, if only for a few minutes.


End file.
